Dark Birds and Red Roses
by FullMetal-edwardelric-fangirl
Summary: Two-shot. Death was 'interesting;' it wasn't 'fun.' So they'd never really given it much thought until...until...Rated T for character deaths, depression, ect. Angsty. :3


I loveloveloved OHSHC~ I'm not normally into girlyish things with love and mushy mess but this was great. Loved it. ^^ Even if the English VAs half murdered most of the names. Ah, well. I did watch some of it in Japanese, too, but it had Vic in it. And Greg. And Todd. And Travis. I couldn't help but watch it in English…3

And listening to Vic go "I WILL DRINK THIS COFFEE!" was well worth it. :3

Anyway. First Ouran fic, of course. And I know I haven't posted anything in a while, so yarh. I need to update some things, too. . I wanted to write something angsty, so here it is. :'D ALSO.

This is my 30th posted fic! Goal = REACHED! Life is good! My new goal is 50, but still. I'm so happeh! Whoo!

Alrighty. This will be a two-shot, remember. :3

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Dark Birds and Red Roses

_Hikaru_

_._

Everything was fake.

The smiles, the pity. They didn't actually care, and it was obvious—oh so _obvious. _They would never understand how much it _hurt; _they couldn't comprehend it with their plastic faces and fake sympathy. Even his appearance wasn't real; it wasn't correct. His suit was pressed, firm, black. The orange hair he usually had spiked was parted to the **wrong **side for that day and was slicked down—it was the brightest part of him except for the red rose that was in the pocket of his blazer.

He lay in the finest white silk money could buy and the dark wood was imported from some western country. Pure, polished gold lined the edges. Everything was elegant as if it was some kind of party. It wasn't really that big of a surprise.

The boy hadn't taken the time to lift his eyes from the tan carpet beneath him. People walked by, not saying a word—_it's not like they cared anyway—_going straight to… their father, who'd taken the time to make an appearance after all, shaking his hand and offering condolences. Their…..… His….No, still their (he wasn't ready to give that up yet) aunt, the one who looked like a frog, had stopped and stood in front of him for minutes, staring at the top of his head, silent. Then she turned and walked to their mother, who'd also made an appearance, who seemed to be genuinely upset.

She'd always been a good actress, though, and he wasn't sure if she was upset about the loss of her son or the loss in the attraction she'd have by only having one son instead of twins.

What he really wouldn't have been surprised about was if people were question which one was in the casket and which one was sitting still as a stone on the far side of the room (it didn't happen, though, or he just didn't hear it. It easily could've been either, honestly).

Normally he would've been infuriated by it all—the play they were all taking part of—but that day his throat was full of cotton and his stomach was full of a bubbling feeling that made him feel as if he were going to wretch at any time (which didn't make a lot of sense, considering he hadn't eaten anything for days). He couldn't stop the trembling that was wracking his body; he planted his pale fingers around the bottom of the chair he was in to keep himself from toppling over, as if holding onto his sanity. He gritted his teeth together as the breathing he'd been trying so hard to keep steady faltered and for a moment he couldn't breathe; there wasn't any air, damn it! He couldn't breathe, he couldn't _breathe,_ Karou, he—

…

The air came back, but he didn't want it. Not anymore. Out of nothing more than habit he let oxygen flood his burning lungs, though sloppily and ragged. His eyelids slid halfway over the dull gold full of… nothing his eyes had become. He dropped his head even lower and then he was staring at his shoes, black and polished with a shine to them, without actually paying them any attention. It was all about appearances, huh?

Then there was a presence beside him. All day no one had actually taken the time to sit beside him (maybe there was an aura about him that sent people away?), but he hadn't really cared; he didn't really care about anything at all that day, much less the few days before it. Yet, someone was there, sitting at his right. Then someone was at his left and one… two… three were behind him. They didn't speak, just sat there with him, their being there saying something on its own. He didn't look up from the floor to meet anyone's eyes; he wasn't sure if that would break anymore of the shattered pieces people called "Hikaru." He'd never tell them this, it wasn't fair—they were both of their friends—but them being there without his brother made him feel so much more alone than he ever had.

He bit his bottom lip, probably making it bleed in the process. His fingers tightened around the bottom of the chair until his knuckles turned white as the trembling tried to take over his body again. It'd always been him and his twin—it'd been that way for years. The maids were more influential than their parents were and they'd gotten used to it. It was okay that way. They had their own little world with just them—_only _them—and there wasn't a thing wrong with that.

Then, the last year of middle school, they joined the Host Club, and suddenly their world had windows they could open to talk to other people, socialize. It was strange and, frankly, frightening at first, but they got used to it. Together.

But that was over now. There was no 'together.' He had the Hosts but there was no twin duo with 'homosexual tendencies*' to woo girls. There wasn't a set of brothers to play games with. There weren't two orange-headed boys playing pranks and cause mischief. There was no twin. There was no Karou.

Only a boy that'd lost half of his soul to something stupid—_so_ stupid—and he would never, ever be able to get it back.

The wake came and went and he was suddenly back in his room, waiting for the sun to rise and the funeral to come. And it did. He'd put up a blank face—a mask—and walked into the church without breaking, without looking anywhere than the back wall. He was rigid, standing straight like he'd been told to for all those years and hadn't done so until then. He took a seat at a pew and did just that the entire time—sat there. He missed the words said by his father, his aunt, and Tamaki. He missed everything until he was shook and told it was time to go to the graveside.

It was raining. How cliché. The sky was crying just like most of the other people standing outside. Fake tears, too. Ha. Probably used those eye drops he and Karou always—

…Eventually everyone started to clear away. The rain continued to poor down harder, beating him, soaking him to the bone. He kept rereading the tome stone, over and over again. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It should've been him, not his brother, the kinder one, the one who always…

A hand was suddenly on his shoulder, and it was a second before he realized it'd stopped raining over him. An umbrella made for at least three was looming over his head—why hadn't he noticed that before?—and behind him a brunette stood. Her emotions were real, he knew that, but just someone touching him like they expected it to help made something inside him flare up.

But he was too tired to care. Had he had even an ounce of energy left in him, though, he was well aware he would've said something that he would've regretted. He didn't thank her, though. He didn't do anything. He just stood there, now not getting wet, head down, still reading that tomb stone. Over and over and over.

Everyone experienced loss. In the end, everyone experienced death, as well. Though running close, hand in hand, the two things were very different. He knew he knew people who'd dealt with both. The first person he thought about when he considered things like that was Haruhi. But then that awful, awful thing flared inside him again. She had her dad when that happened.

He opened his eyes, half-lidded, and stared at the ceiling. It'd been a week already.

He had no one. Friends will be friends, sure. But none of them could ever be his best friend, nor his brother. They didn't know _how _to even try to support him, he was sure. They didn't know who he was half as much as the one who would forever keep all those things secret.

His hand absently searched the side of his bed for a hand.

…

Alone. He was very, very alone.

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* Yeah, I know they aren't gay. That's actually a direct quote from the anime. xD The twins explain it, as I recall, that to woo the girls they're doing the taboo and having 'homosexual tendencies' towards each other. Bam.

.

Okay, before I'm like kthxbai I'ma ask you guise a favor. Not telling you you have to join or something, just asking you to check it out. A forum I'm a part of (actually a part of the staff of) would really like you to come check it out. :3 I, actually, don't do what the specific reason for the site is (you'll know by the link, ha). I play forum games, chat, and actually write on it. I do a weekly segment, ect. If you're interested in things like Photoshop, coding, and computers, too, you'd fit right in. If you're interested pweeze follow the link? And join if you'd like to join (no obligation or anything)! :'D I'd love it if you would~ The link is in mah profile. :3

Thanks~

-Fangirl

See the

button?

It is very

Very lonely.

It should make

You say, "Oh

No! A lonely

button!"

And would love it if you would

Click it and review!

Yes.

:)


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